


Nightmares

by jacquelee



Category: Jack and the Beanstalk: The Real Story
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 12:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13524702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacquelee/pseuds/jacquelee
Summary: Willie has nightmares.Graphic description of violence in the first sentence.





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [fic_promptly](http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org) for the prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, fears manifested in nightmares.

A giant, falling from the sky, an axe, hacking into flesh, bone, blood, so much blood. It showered over her, doused her and she kept hacking away, laughing, laughing maniacally. 

Willie sat up with a start. It wasn't as much a nightmare, as she never slept, but it was her brain playing tricks on her the moment she relaxed. As it had been for the last four hundred years. 

Her fears, coming back to haunt her every single moment she tried to let go, tried to not think about all the things she had done, the curse that was set upon her. 

She didn't even exactly know what it was she feared. Being found out as a murderer? Or not being found out? Having to live an eternity without anyone ever wanting to know the truth? Every generation of Robinsons had come to her, one by one, all of them content to believe the story she told them. 

The story of a brave boy who had wanted to make his mother proud. The story of a mother who only loved her son and never wanted to do anything wrong. The story of a grizzly, evil giant, who threatened both of them and the story of them valiantly protecting what was theirs. 

A good story. A lie. Was that her fear? That she was so good at lying after all these years, all these centuries that she could even nearly make herself believe? That she would forget what truly happened? Forget what she had done? Or that she wouldn't forget it? That she couldn't?

In all those years, none of her son's sons wanted to hear anything about that. They didn't care where the riches came from, just that they were there. They didn't care why they had an immortal great-great-great-great-grandmother (with more and more greats added every generation), they didn't even much care that they were doomed to live a short life as long as it was a life of wealth and comfort. 

But Willie cared. She cared more and more with each generation. When the nightmares came, when she was doused in blood again, she couldn't not care. 

Was that her fear? That the person she had been all those years ago was the person she was? That that was all there was to her? Possibly. If so, that fear was what she had to live with. 

Until, one day, maybe, there would be a Robinson that wanted to know the truth. A Robinson that would dare to enquire, to find out the consequences of her actions all those years ago. 

A Robinson that could make things right. 

For that day to come was all the hope she had.


End file.
